


coffee on the prado

by lovepeaceohana



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Chromatic Character, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-28
Updated: 2010-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-13 10:31:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovepeaceohana/pseuds/lovepeaceohana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>cho drinking coffee on the prado and thinking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	coffee on the prado

**Author's Note:**

> a drabble to get it out of my head, and because it seemed at least partially relevant to the question of why cho married a muggle (which I just learned, thanks wikipedia.)

She snorts at the street performer from the safety of the café umbrella. “Look at him,” she says to the little black cat sitting opposite her, whom she calls Kiki. A moment later, “You’d think that these people have never seen scarves before.” Said scarves flash like gemstones in the bright sunlight as he juggles them, and then to his apparent surprise they become one unbroken circle of silk, and the gap-toothed children in the front row shriek and giggle around their dripping ice creams.

She tells herself that she doesn’t miss it, not really. Magic. She hasn’t really given it up, after all, she still uses the old charms to keep house. Who wants to scrub pots anyway? Saves on utility bills. And she didn’t really belong there, not like she does here, where people smile and ask her what she does for a living instead of where she’s from, where she can stroll the streets and catch snippets of a tongue she only half-remembers and eat with the chopsticks her parents taught her to use without anyone glancing at her funny and asking why she’s using hair pieces for cutlery.

Marietta had understood, but then again, she hadn’t seen the other woman since they’d both left Hogwarts. “It isn’t easy being brown,” she’d joke, tugging on her dark curls, and Cho would laugh and be secretly glad that her own skin was more cream than caramel. She preened when Diggory sat up and took notice, and pretended not to wonder if he meant because she was Chinese or because she was in Ravenclaw when he laughed and told her, “Of course you did,” because she earned more OWLs than he had. And then she stopped thinking about Cedric at all, after.

Kiki stares at her, and Cho gives in and scoops some whipped cream off her iced coffee and offers it with a roll of her eyes. She spoils the cat and she knows it, but she misses having a proper familiar some days. She married a Muggle who knows about magic through a cousin or someone who went to American Witches’ Institute at Salem and appreciates laundry that folds itself, and most days she doesn’t think about England or Hogwarts or (Cedric) He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.

She supposes she can spare a little grace for the performer, anyway. It’s not like he’ll ever know what he’s missing. Still … One conspirator’s wink with her cat later, and the magician’s scarves turn into doves, flying away into the west. She hides her smirk as he hides his terror and turns open-mouthed to collect tips made sticky with ice cream and awe.


End file.
